


Tripping

by JantoJones



Series: Stand-alone  (The 1st 100) [62]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7148525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya has a bad experience when infiltrating a group of hippies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tripping

Illya had no idea that his cover was about to be blown. In fact, by this point, Illya had no real idea of reality. Thanks to his disguise, he was able to blend in amongst the other hippies in the camp, but his intention to keep a clear head was long forgotten. Kuryakin had been careful not to smoke or take anything which could impair his judgement, but had neglected to consider that the air would be thick with marijuana fumes. As a result, his assignment to investigate a possible THRUSH drug distribution ring, was no longer of any importance to him.

Illya's current concern was how he was going stop the sky from swimming around in front of him and his stomach from churning. Worse still, he kept hearing an annoying voice in head, which was continually asking if he was ok. Of course he was okay. At least he would be in a minute. Dropping to his hands and knees, Illya emptied his stomach of everything he'd eaten that day.

A couple of miles away, sitting in an electricity company van, Napoleon Solo grimaced at the sound and asked Illya once more if he was okay. The American agent knew exactly what was happening, but it was too soon to abort the mission. He would just have to hope his partner recovered, and regained his wits quickly.

"Shouldn't we go in and get him?" asked Sam Hudson, one of the other four agents that Napoleon had with him.

"Not yet," Solo replied. "We haven't learned anything."

"But Mr Kuryakin seems to be having a bad trip."

"Don't worry about Illya. He's been exposed to worse drugs than weed in his time. Saying that, get us closer to him, just in case."

Back in the camp, Illya was struggling. He'd tried climbing to his feet, but after three attempts, had given up. Besides, the sky didn't swim as much when he was closer to the ground. Without having any idea of where he was going, Illya set off at a slow crawl. He didn't get very far, as he was stopped by two pairs of legs standing in his path. Looking up he was startled to find himself staring into a pair of men wearing oxygen masks.

"You are Illya Kuryakin, yes?" Asked Clive Sayers, the taller of the two.

"Yes," the Russian replied.

"You are an U.N.C.L.E. agent."

"Yes."

Somewhere in the fug which currently occupied his mind, Illya had the nagging feeling he wasn't supposed to be telling people who he was.

"What are you doing here?"

"Searching for THRUSH," he told them, without even thinking. "We think they are involved in illegal drugs distribution. Don't tell anyone though, it's top secret."

The shorter man, Douglas Peters, looked at his colleague and laughed.

"It looks like your test has been success. We needn't have wasted our time on all these filthy drop-outs."

"Yeah," Sayers agreed. "We should have gone straight to the top. If it works on a man like Kuryakin, it'll work on anyone."

"That's groovy man!" laughed Peters, as he and Sayers pricked Illya up and dragged him towards their transport.

Just outside the camp, they had a large truck, which contained a mobile lab. They threw Illya in, not bothering to tie him up as his motor skills were temporarily non-existent.

"Where's your partner?" Sayers demanded.

"Twoooo mmmiles norrrrth," Kuryakin answered, his speech beginning to slur.

"Actually, that's not quite true," stated Napoleon Solo, as he aimed his gun into the truck.

Before Peters and Sayers could fully grasp the situation, they were each taken down by a sleep dart. Solo clambered into the truck, and squatted down by his stricken partner."

"Hey there, Partner Mine. How are you feeling?"

"Poleyon . . . Naplyon . . . whatever your name is . . . I'm starving."

"Nothing new there," Solo chuckled, as Illya drifted off to sleep.

…..

The Russian awoke, fully convinced that the combined military might of the Soviet Union was marching through his skull. Fully expecting to see the sterile surroundings of medical when he opened his eyes, he was pleasantly surprised to find he was in his own bed. Moving very gingerly, to prevent his brain from sloshing about, Illya attempted to get up. He succeeded only in knocking his lamp from the nightstand. The resulting crash attracted Napoleon, who was reading in the sitting room.

"You okay?" he asked.

"What hit me?" Illya asked, holding his head as the Soviet military quickened the pace.

"Weed laced with the latest truth serum."

"Seriously? Why on Earth would they need to do that?"

Napoleon shrugged. "If we could answer questions like that, Tovarisch, we'd be a lot closer to defeating them. Lie back down, it's going to be a while before you can think straight again."

Following his partner's advice, Illya carefully sank back into the pillows, and went back to sleep.


End file.
